Sinners and Saints
by Red Castellan
Summary: "Everyone is a saint until their sin is caught. Everyone is a sinner if they feel guilty. But us victors, what are we?" Story of the 75th Games.
1. Chapter 1

All the Victors' Villages throughout the country were silent. The silence was cold and deadly, as if during a funeral. All the victors were positioned in front of their televisions, some with family, some with fellow victors, and some alone. There were others too, the people that were unwanted by the Capitol, staring at the screen. President Snow was about to announce this year's Quell twist, and all the citizens of Panem, whether the ones in Districts or the Capitol, where the supporters of Snow or the rebels, were waiting with baited breath.

Cress Woods Jr. could hear the loud applause from the Capitolites even from the television as he stared at the old man, dressed in his usual suit with a white rose. Cress bit his lip anxiously as Coriolanus Snow talked about the treaty of treason, the importance of Quarter Quells and how there were cards that already contained what twist would be implemented in Quells. Cress was nervous; despite being a victor on run and currently hiding in District Thirteen, he couldn't but feel bad for whoever would volunteer from his home district of Four. He ran his hand through his hair, agitated, as President Snow looked at the mass of people gathered in front of him.

"Before I proceed to read out the twist of the Quell, I would like to thank our current Head Gamemaker Matthew Hayes for his continuous services. He has produced Games that have been magnificent and have truly carried our traditions. He also took the pains to be the interim Head Gamemaker for previous year while we were looking for someone else who could match his legacy. Luckily, we have found that someone. Matthew, thank you so much for your services as the Head Gamemaker."

The screen focused on the former Head Gamemaker and current Vice President of Panem, Matthew Hayes, who smiled at Snow. Cress' ears perked up; Matthew had been replaced? Why hadn't he told the rebels? Matthew was their agent in the Capitol, it was basically his job to pass the intel. Thus, Cress was even more worried now.

It was at that moment that the door of his small 'room', or whatever it was in District Thirteen, opened, and his roommate Alan Aquila walked in. Cress looked up and sighed as the older man sat down beside him.

"Did he announce it?"

"Not yet. Matthew has left his post."

"What on earth?!"

"Yeah, Snow just announced it."

Before Alan could respond to that, the President called upon the new Head Gamemaker.

"Panem, welcome your new Head Gamemaker: Claudia Horatio!"

The camera focused on an elegant woman sitting in the front row, her long tresses cascading down as if like a waterfall. She was of impeccable beauty and grace, a princess instead of a murderer, and Cress' jaw dropped as he looked at her.

"It's rude to stare," Alan muttered.

"I'm sorry but she's just _so_ beautiful!"

"Yeah, she'll kill children beautifully too."

And that made Cress shut up.

The two men watched now, as President Snow chose a card from a bowl of cards that contained various Quell twists. Cress often wondered whether these 'twists' were really predetermined, or did the Capitol just add in a few slips with the same twist as a pretence and basically chose the twist as they felt like. It seemed highly likely. And then, President Snow spoke.

"On the 75th anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors."

It was as if lightning had fallen on Cress' ears. He jumped to his feet with a loud cry, eyes wide, mouth agape, and soon he was sweating, shivering, even as he felt Alan grab his shoulders tightly to steady him.

"Wh-what…?" he whispered, tears falling down his cheeks, "H-how could he…how…?"

"Cress calm down. You're here, you're safe."

"That's beside the point!" Cress yelled out, eyes wild as if he was turning crazy, "We have fought to death Alan! We've become friends, lovers, family- and we have to _kill_ each other! Do you get it? Do you get it?!"

Alan pulled Cress into an embrace rather forcefully as the younger man almost started hyperventilating, his heart beating at an abnormal rate.

"Calm down Cress!"

"I-I-"

However, he was so distressed that he couldn't get the words out, and continued to tremble. Ultimately, Alan did the only thing he could think of.

He slapped him across the face with all his might, and probably that was what Cress needed to get a hold of himself.

* * *

She picked up the glass vase with its flowery designs and hurled it at the television, the screen shattering into pieces.

Minerva could not believe that this was happening. HOW COULD THEY?! She was crying and heaving and panting, and she then proceeded to upturn the centre table, the glass again breaking into thousands of minute pieces.

"WHAT THE ***!" she cried out in rage, punching her fist into the glass shards, blood trickling down her fist but she did not care. Behind her, Sagittarius was sitting quietly, head in his hands, sobbing softly. Minnie punched the floor again, even as a highly audible gasp escaped Sage. The two had won in consecutive years; Seventy Second and Seventy Third, and it was angering Minnie even further that her mentor was not even expressing his sadness openly.

"Cut it both of you!"

Both Minerva and Sagittarius looked up at their friend Haley Oceanus, the victor who had mentored both of them, a stern frown on her beautiful face, arms folded across her chest. Minerva could not quite understand as to why Haley looked unfazed about the Quell twist compared to Sage and herself. Did she not know that she could be Reaped as well?

Whatever the reason for her demeanour, Minnie did become silent, trembling in anger but quiet nonetheless. Sage just let out a deep sigh and stared at the carpet of the floor, the carpet that was so red, like the blood that was about to spill…

"Buckle up," Haley said, "We have some training to do."

"You're not serious!" Minerva exclaimed, jumping to her feet, while Sage just nodded sadly.

"She's right, Minnie," he said shakily, "If any of us goes back in there, we need to be prepared."

"Wh-_Sage_!"

"We need to be real about this," Haley added, her voice much softer now, "We have to look at this objectively."

Minerva looked from her one mentor to the other, both of them looking at her as if she should accept what was happening; Sage looking resigned to his fate and Haley looking as if she had anticipated this. Speaking of which…

"You're not surprised at all," Minnie noticed, her voice now purely curious, devoid of the rage she had felt a minute ago, for she knew what Haley was like.

"I'm not," she replied, "Ever since Cress has been discovered, I was sure Snow wasn't going to leave the victors alone. Any of us could be rebels. He wants to drive home a point."

"So that picking up the card…"

"That is pure nonsense, Minnie," Haley sighed, "They _don't _have any cards. In the beginning, they did have a few ideas, but the President and the Gamemaker already decide what the twist is going to be. This time, they just made their own idea and presented it in a way that looked as if the twist was chosen."

"So they've planning it for a while?!"

"Quite likely."

And then Minerva screamed. She screamed in frustration and anger, in hatred of the Capitol and the unfairness of the whole situation, but most of all she screamed in grief and dread over what the future held.

* * *

Ruby didn't quite know what to do.

She was staring at the screen blankly, staring as if her life had been sucked out of her body. Probably it had, because what she had just heard could not be true.

Her first thought was that she was safe. Ruby Platinum, a victor from One, had had to fake her death years ago because of a tiff with Snow, and she had changed her appearance surgically and adopted the persona of Micky, a bubbly girl from Five. She was so used to being Micky that she had forgotten that she was a victor in the first place.

The second thought that crossed her mind was that she was the wife of the only male victor from Five, a man who was passed out in his room due to the drugs he had taken, and had no idea what was about to happen. That was when the tears started trickling. She and Sasha had a lot of differences, and it was true that their relationship had started on hatred instead of love, as he was the one who had destroyed her prototype, a cloning machine, during its initial run, but that was behind her now. sure, they argued quite a bit, but Ruby now loved him.

And that was when this 'twist' happened.

Ruby wished that she had never fallen in love with him, that she had never accepted him. maybe the twist might have made her happier then, but right now she was just empty, and her hand moved to her stomach protectively, because she was carrying their child. She had not even told him yet, she had found just a couple of days ago, but now she didn't have the strength to tell him. she didn't know how she was going to break the news of the twist to her husband, but she knew that she had to bring him back home anyhow. She was a Career after all, it was her duty to prepare her husband for the fight that was approaching, the fight to death.

"Don't worry," she whispered to herself, "He had six kills."

However, Ruby knew that she wasn't worried about that. Sasha had probably murdered more than most Careers combined, with six kills in the arena and countless others outside on his rebel duties. She was worried that she would lose him, because there would be people who would hurt him, kill him, and probably knew how big of an addict he was. He was addicted to alcohol, drugs, tobacco…just about everything. And that had made him weak.

Nonetheless, it was time to be objective, so Ruby wiped her tears away furiously and got up. It was time to wake Sasha up, wake him to face the reality.

* * *

"Hahaha!"

Charles leaned back in his sofa, slapping his thigh as he laughed, as if a great joke had been thrown at him. He was partially right, Snow had played a joke on them, a very dirty joke at that. Beside him, Anya was crying, her head against his shoulder. She wasn't crying only for herself though; she was crying for her best friend too. Charles was the only male victor in Six. She couldn't believe that he was going into the Games again. Those other victors were strong, the whole Panem thought Chip was a psychopath. Yes, he _was _a sociopath, but nothing too dangerous! _How_ was she supposed to ensure that he returned home?!

"You're crying for nothing," he muttered, eyes as cold and emotionless as always, "Pull yourself together."

"You're going back in!"

"And I'm going to have the time of my life in there," he mused, reaching out for a chocolate bar. Anya briefly wondered how on earth he hadn't become a diabetic by now, he was always devouring sweets, but she shook the thought away.

"You're not going to survive in there," she whispered.

"You underestimate me Anya."

The girl sighed, searching her friend's face for a possible weakness, or a show of emotion of any kind, but she was met with a void. Charles wasn't going to let his thoughts about the twist show at any cost.

And that was when she made her mind. If he was going in, she was going in too. After all, Chip was all she had. He was her family, her friend, and was possibly the only person she truly loved, even more than herself…

She was going to do everything in her power to bring him back, and this was the time to start preparing their moves.

She hugged him again, eyes shut. And Chip stared at the screen, a frown slowly appearing on his usually passive face. He was not happy about this at all, and he could already see that his chances were low.

But he did not have to show that to anyone.

**Well, hello guys! Welcome to Sinners and Saints, and I hope you liked this prologue! I know this is a bit early, but I'm not really starting it right away. So this is a partial SYOT, so a few spots will have my characters, characters some of you might know if you've read any of the prequels (Surviving the Sea, Glass Glade, Dawn of Light, Mirage of Lies). The submissions will most likely be open for a month and a half, so we have plenty of time.**

**Now, since this is the last of an established series, there are a few guidelines that you need to keep in mind while making a character. Those will be on my profile, along with the form and a summary of the verse. The one main thing is that your victor **_**CANNOT **_**be from these years: 54****th****, 58****th****, 59****th****, 60****th****, 66****th****, 68****th****, 70****th****, 71****st****, 72****nd****, 73****rd**** and 74****th****. The rest are fair game. **

**I would recommend reading a summary of the last four stories that I'll put up on my profile so that you can make a tribute with ease. In case you have any questions, feel free to PM or discord me.**

**See you guys soon and have a happy new year! **

**Have a great day!**


	2. Chapter 2

_One Year Ago…_

He was scared, and rightfully so.

There were a lot of things that Rhipsalis Rhododendron had imagined could happen to him, from failing his every test to maiming himself to getting beaten by a mob for being the way he was, but the seventeen-year-old had never anticipated that he would be here, in the Capitol for reasons he'd rather not think about. He was unabashedly terrified and wanted to snuggle under his blanket and cry for his parents, and cry for his deceased caretaker Lily, and he had done precisely that on more than one occasion. And yet, none of the crying and bawling and pleading was to give any result. In fact, he was crying during his Private Sessions, for while he knew a lot about plants and traps, he simply couldn't bring himself to do anything else.

He watched, through teary eyes, how the gamemakers looked at him, disgust in every part of their face, noses scrunched up, a haughty air of arrogance around them. The Vice President cum interim Head Gamemaker just regarded him coldly while he cried, and politely but firmly reminded him that he needed to do _something_ in order to gain a score.

So Rhipsalis did what he was best at doing. He raised his hand in the obscenest gesture, stuck out his tongue at the panel of monsters who disgraced humanity by their very existence, and stormed out of the sessions hall rather adamantly.

* * *

It was much later, when he saw a big fat _One_ flash against his name on the television, where nobody else got a score lower than a _Four_ did Rhipsalis realise that he had made a blunder, a massive blunder, and that was when he panicked. If there was one thing that he was clear about, it was that he did not wish to die. He had a business empire to manage, his parents to look after in their old age, and he just loved himself unconditionally to sacrifice something as precious as life.

"A _One_?" Minnie asked aloud, looking at him with wide eyes, "Rhipsalis, you didn't do anything in there?"

Minerva McCarthy and Charles Chevrolet had gotten the responsibility of mentoring District Seven this year. While they did not agree on many things, they did agree that they would mentor both the tributes together. However, neither of them had anticipated such a score, considering that his District Partner, Elma Woods had a score of _Seven._

"I broke down," Rhipsalis muttered, "I mean, I don't want to _die_!"

"You won't," Chip said with a smirk, "Just stay out of trouble and you'll be fine."

"You think so?"

"Yes."

"Rhipsalis," Minnie cut in, "Since you have that score you're already in trouble."

"What does it matter?" he snapped at her, "A score can't decide my future!"

He was exhausted. The trauma of being Reaped, of being mocked by the gamemakers' disgusting looks and of Minnie looking at him as if it was she who had scored a _One_… it was getting hard. He wanted to relax and cry and shout and fight, do anything but what he was doing. He wanted to run, run and _run_ far, far away. He wanted an escape, but even the idea of it was simply a myth.

"Tributes with low scores have won before," Minnie continued softly, trying to sound kind, "But we'll have trouble with the sponsors now. It is unlikely of them to give anyone a _One_ though. If they're really annoyed, they give a _Two._"

"If you've done something to annoy them, this is the time to speak up," Chip added as he picked up a candy, holding it between his thumb and index finger, emotionless eyes gazing into his own. Rhipsalis, on his part, simply looked between him and Minnie, both of whom knew that he had certainly done _something_ that he probably shouldn't have. The boy sighed, his shoulders slumping. He didn't want to elaborate on his behaviour, did not want to think about how he had raised the chances of his own death by being rude, but he spoke anyway, telling them both exactly what he had done. Minnie's frown was quite deep now, but Chip merely chuckled.

"Well, they're going to come after you alright," he said, "Unless you do something about it."

"Like what?" he asked eagerly.

Chip regarded him coldly, pausing for a second too long for desired effect, and this was getting on the boy's nerves. He desperately wanted -_needed_\- a solution to get out of the mess that he had created for himself. Before Chip replied, however, Minerva grabbed his shoulder lightly.

"Firstly, calm down. Forget the Private Session. You have an interview tomorrow, a chance that can still save you. Let's get you trained for it, alright?"

"For maximum effect you can ruin it too," Chip smirked, "The Gamemakers might actually ignore you if you do that."

"Don't!" Minnie said sternly, glaring at her mentoring partner, "We don't need your advice Chip. You've already done enough harm. Stay here."

"_I_ have done harm?" he laughed.

Minerva grabbed Rhipsalis' wrist and dragged him along, warning Chip with her eyes to not follow them. And yet, the boy from Seven looked over his shoulder at his other mentor, who simply smiled at him, before shouting out the next words.

"You can mess it boy! I guarantee you sponsors no matter what! Just go for it!"

And Rhipsalis, he felt much better after this weird form of encouragement.

* * *

He spent the evening with Minnie, going through the angle that he was supposed to play, a rich gentleman from Seven, but Rhipsalis' heart was just not into it. He was rich but not a gentleman, and had no issue admitting that. Thus, he was left feeling dissatisfied after his discussions, but decided not to share his feelings with Minnie anyway. It would just end up worrying her. He didn't want to discuss it with Charles either because he could become a psycho in a second. Rhipsalis was panicking now, unable to sleep, the mistakes of his private sessions echoing in his mind. So, he decided to do what he could to rectify his error, and sent through an Avox a message to the interviewer, Claudia Horatio, who also doubled as the arena designer, that he urgently wanted to meet her. He got dressed and went to the rooftop, wondering whether his request would even be considered. After all, did interviewers ever meet tributes in private? He did not know, but he was willing to do anything, _anything_ to find out the questions that she would ask tomorrow, just so he knew what to do.

The door to the stairway swung open, and Rhipsalis waited with bated breath for Claudia to emerge through it, his heart beating fast. How was he supposed to present his proposal? _I'll do anything you ask me to but please help!_ However, the colour drained from his face when he saw the Head Gamemaker instead. Why was he here?! Damn that Avox, did he rat him out?! Whatever the case, Rhipsalis was terrified even as Matthew motioned to his bodyguards to stay around the door while he himself walked towards the boy.

Suddenly the night seemed to have become colder, the chill running down Rhipsalis' spine, even as the man appeared right in front of him, eyes amused, regarding him with a smirk. For a moment neither of them said anything, and Rhipsalis wanted to just run from there. However, Matthew pulled out a note from his suit pocket, a note that _he _had written for Claudia and turned it towards the boy.

"Care to explain?"

"I-I'm sorry s-sir," he stammered, "I'm just-I-"

"Wanted to cheat?"

"I want to _live!_" Rhipsalis exclaimed, voice hushed but aggressive at the same time, his blood finally boiling. Being here was unfair to him! Why didn't anyone see that?! He wanted to _live_! He was too young to die, and he didn't care whether anyone thought that he was wallowing in self pity, because he had all the right to do that. To his surprise, Matthew's face softened at his words, and he placed his hands on his shoulders.

"You can win," he said kindly, and Rhipsalis looked up at the older man quizzically. Why was he showing so much concern? He didn't say anything however, knowing not to annoy anyone anymore. Thus, he simply nodded, not shaking off the man's hands from his shoulders.

"Please help," he whispered, "I'm ready to do anything you say."

"Anything?" Matthew asked sceptically.

"Anything."

The older man considered him for a while, a slow smirk forming on his face, and Rhipsalis wondered what he had in mind. He had certainly not expected the reply that he got though.

"How about you get some sleep? And prepare for the interview in the morning?"

"That won't help!"

"Of course it will. You don't know when you'll get enough rest next."

"The interview isn't going to help. I've a pathetic score," Rhipsalis retorted rather accusingly, making Matthew smirk again.

"I think you can use that to your advantage."

"How…?"

"Well, the tributes pretty much ignore tributes with a score as bad as yours. But the Capitol… they get curious."

And that was all he said. Rhipsalis hadn't even realised that the man had his hands on his shoulders all the while, not until he removed them slowly, smiling at him before warning him about sending anymore letters. Rhipsalis was still feeling confused long after Matthew had left.

* * *

Next evening dawned on Rhipsalis with a nervous light. He had been given a ridiculous outfit, most likely in a deliberate attempt to paint him as someone not worth investing in. He had a sunflower print suit on, his hair gelled up with golden highlights, and he could see that even the Capitolites were looking at him in a mocking manner. Oh well.

"Mr Rhododendron, all of us are surprised to see your score for the private sessions! Is getting such a score a strategy on your part?" Claudia asked him, and Rhipsalis rolled his eyes. She was a gamemaker as well, she knew very well what had happened. and yet, she put on this façade. The public present were even denser for they bought her words. How stupid could people be?

"No strategy at all," Rhipsalis replied, already imagining Minnie frowning and Charles smirking, "I just showed them the finger."

Most of the Capitolites were confused regarding his reply, and Rhipsalis felt a mild satisfaction as he saw Claudia's smile disappear, replaced by a quiet rage. There was a coughing sound, and Rhipsalis turned towards the high balcony of sorts that was situated above the seats for the crowd, and locked eyes with the President of Panem, the coldness of his gaze reaching him even on the stage but he didn't care.

Rhipsalis Rhododendron had successfully shut everyone up.

* * *

He was crying when the tubes delivered him into the arena, an open stadium surrounded by various doors that led into goodness knew what. Rhipsalis stood on his pedestal, looking around like a frightened ferret, completely ignoring the stack of supplies just a few steps ahead. To his right was the boy from Eleven, Callum. To his left was his district partner, Elma Woods. Rhipsalis just waited for the countdown to get over, and as soon as the timer hit zero, he ran. He ran through one of the doors of the stadium's stand, hearing a cannon after cannon as most of the tributes tried to get something out, but not him. the inside of that structure was dark and cold, but he ran blindly, running up some random stairs and reaching the stands of the stadium. He was quite shocked at his location, and hiding behind the seats, he watched with a sickening feeling as children cut down other children, and a tear escaped his eye as Elma was beheaded by Viola Patricia, the girl from Two. Rhipsalis forced his fist into his mouth to stop himself from screaming as he watched the largest bloodbath he had ever seen in his life, with fourteen tributes gone already. Never before had so many people gone in the bloodbath, and Rhipsalis wanted to throw up when he saw that the Careers had casually camped around the stack of supplies, the corpses of other children lying at their feet.

The other tributes had disappeared but Rhipsalis did not see any of them join him in the stands. When the night came, he became colder and colder, and once he was sure that the Careers were asleep, he sobbed quietly, shivering in the cold. A parachute descended next to him, startling his frightened heart even further, and before rejoicing the fact that he had a sponsor, he carefully looked over to see if the Careers had woken up due to the sound.

_Well, what kind of killer sleeps after such a sound?_

He didn't complain though, and started unwrapping the package with trembling hands. It was an effort to get through the task, for he felt weak due to lack of food and water and the cold. Hence, when he saw that the package had a fleece sweater, along with a half a litre bottle filled with warm water and a single banana, he couldn't control his joy and burst into tears again. he put on the jacket while crying and took a few sips of the delicious liquid while crying, but he choked on the banana, which sent him on a coughing frenzy.

It took him a while to realise that this would have alerted the Careers, and he forced himself into silence, eyes bulging out as he tried not to cough anymore. He peeped from the stands again and sure enough, they were up, looking around for the prey, the rodent that had disturbed their sleep. Rhipsalis ducked and stayed under the seats, waiting with bated breath for them to turn up at any moment. He waited and waited and waited, and three days passed by. Every night he was sponsored a single water bottle and two bananas, and that's what he lived on, staying in just one position. He also got a pack of adult diapers, a gift he had not expected in the slightest, but was glad for, for it enabled him to remain in his position for longer periods of time, thus less movement and lesser chance of discovery. Cannon after cannon exploded, but Rhipsalis Rhododendron stayed under the seat. No mutt bothered him. no tribute found him. it was as if everyone had forgotten he existed, and this suited him just fine.

When the fourth day arrived, he realised he was in the final four. He peeped at the stadium again, only to see the last two Careers fighting each other tooth and nail, and the boy from Eleven, Callum, turning up at the wrong time. Rhipsalis watched as Viola stabbed her District Partner Valour in the heart even as a cannon exploded announcing his death. He watched as Viola attacked Callum, who had picked up a sword from the cornucopia too. He was just no match for her, but Rhipsalis had his own plans.

As the two were about to attack each other, he threw a used diaper each on both of them. The two were so shocked by this, for they had forgotten about Rhipsalis all along, that they both ended up stabbing each other. The two looked up at him as they fell, both of them cursed him, and just like that, Rhipsalis Rhododendron had won the Hunger Games.

* * *

The doctors looked him up and down for injuries but there were none. All he needed was food and water, and he drank three litres of it right away, used a proper bathroom and cleaned himself. When Minerva and Charles came to meet him, he ran and hugged them both. Minnie embraced him back, smiling, while Chip winked at him.

"Told you we'll get you sponsors."

"I can't believe you got through that without killing anyone," Minnie sighed, "But I'm glad you did."

"You got a victor in your first year of mentoring," Chip smirked, "And I got one after two years of drought. Seriously, District Eight was a _curse._"

"Thank you so much guys," Rhipsalis grinned at them, "You both saved me back in there."

And while his mentors simply smiled at him and Minnie gave him another hug, they couldn't help but exchange a meaningful glance. _Why_ did the Gamemakers let him get away like that?

* * *

Rhipsalis was not surprised that nobody from the Capitol was giving him much attention in his victory party. They met him and congratulated him, but there were no annoying fan moments, no adoration in their eyes. He was kind of relieved though, except that Snow had given him the most hateful glare ever and Rhipsalis had almost cowered under his gaze. He watched as Snow talked to Matthew about something, glancing his way once, but the Vice President laughed it off, saying something that lessened Snow's frown. The elderly man gave him one more glance before leaving the venue, and Rhipsalis watched as the interim Head Gamemaker ambled over to him.

"Well, congratulations," he said, smirking as he shook hands with the younger boy.

"Thanks dude. I was so scared of dying."

"You're not scared anymore?"

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing."

Matthew smiled at him, putting one arm around his shoulder as if they were friends from years, and Rhipsalis didn't even mind.

"Quite an impressive win by the way. Zero kills… It is-_was_ unheard of. Well done Mr Rhododendron."

"Why didn't you send any mutts though?" the boy from Seven asked. It was a question that had been bugging him even in the Games, and it bugged him now. In all the Games that he had watched, tributes who did nothing were attacked by mutts. But not him.

"We kind of forgot you existed. You were so well hidden, we didn't bother showing your footage. And then we forgot you were there in the first place. And look, that worked in your favour."

He way his eyes twinkled but did not meet the boy's told Rhipsalis that Matthew had not told the complete truth. An absurd thought crept into his mind, and he nudged at the man to look at him, which he did after a few seconds.

"You did it on purpose," he whispered. Matthew raised his brows in amusement, turning around to face him fully, smiling lightly.

"Now, that's a big accusation," he whispered back.

He patted his shoulder, telling him to enjoy his victory, and left the party too, leaving Rhipsalis standing all alone.

* * *

He had not thought that he would be sitting next to him on his couch at his home one day, both the men watching a guy perform his rap songs on the large screen that was a part of the wall that Matthew owned. This guy, Nigel Titanium, had gone under the knife to look like the tribute in the Seventieth Games, Ainsley Fischer. Little did Rhipsalis know that it _was_ Ainsley Fischer alright, living the life of a rapper the way he always wanted to, just because it was Matthew who had found him alive and found a way for him to get out into the world alive.

As Nigel sang, Rhipsalis leaned a little closer to the older man, who neither pulled him towards himself nor pushed him away. The two did not know how they became friends, but they liked each other's company. Rhipsalis admitted to himself that he liked the Vice President more than just a friend, but he also knew that it would be too ambitious. Plus, Matthew had reminded him politely quite often that he was in love with a certain Mars Tartarus and that Rhipsalis was just a child and they couldn't really be together. Still, it was an idea that the young victor entertained.

"Has anyone… approached you?" Matthew asked all of a sudden.

"Approached me? No. What for though?"

This news seemed to bother Matthew and he finally looked at the younger man, a frown on his handsome face, something that Rhipsalis found adorable.

"Nothing," Matthew replied after a few seconds, "Nothing at all."

"Are you hiding something?"

"No Rhippy, I'm not. And it's getting late, I think you should go back to your quarters."

"I want to stay here."

And that was exactly what happened. As Rhipsalis shut the door of the guestroom and got into his bed, he couldn't help but wonder why Matthew was so disturbed so abruptly. He wondered if he was afraid for him due to the manner in which he won, but Mr Rhododendron was a firm believer of the thought that a victory was a victory no matter how it was achieved.

When he fell asleep, all he dreamed of were Nigel's songs.

* * *

**Okay, so this is the second prologue and I know exactly how weird this is. I also know that my writing wasn't the best here because I had to include a lot of things in one chapter and I wanted it to move fast so that it wouldn't get tiring to read. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and will consider submitting to this! ** **Do share your thoughts on Rhipsalis. We'll see him again, I just wrote this chapter because my other tributes have been in my previous stories and since he's new, I thought an introduction to him and his plot was needed. Thanks to LordShiro for helping me make this amazing character! I hope his Games were satisfactory XD**

**Also, the submissions are open for about two ore weeks, so send your victors in!**

**And shout out to TheAmazingJAJ for making the cover for this story! You're really amazing friend!**

**Have a great day!**


	3. Chapter 3

There were a lot of things he did not like, but putting on heavy makeup in a way that concealed his face fully and efficiently was on the top.

Regal Winter was tired of being Mars Tartarus, and it turned out it wasn't beneficial after all. At least not in the way that he had anticipated; there were still perks of being undiscovered. He enjoyed freedom in his disguise, freedom to walk the streets and talk to people that were like his own, and could understand the public sentiment at a ground level, something that was crucial. And yet, he had been Mars Tartarus all this while, pretending to be Matthew's 'special friend' only to easily extract information from him.

And he conveniently forgot to tell him about the twist.

Regal couldn't get over this detail however hard he tried. He aggressively applied makeup on his otherwise handsome face, ruining it completely in the shade of fuschia, as he thought over again and again as to why Matthew didn't tell him that this was the twist, that he was stepping down from the head gamemaker's post. He was angry at his friend, a quiet rage burning at his heart, but most of all he was hurt. They had met just two days before the announcement! Two days!

Regal grabbed the edge of the sink, bending forward just a bit, staring at the mirror, at his hideous reflection, staring into his own eyes as he trembled. For some reason, he had been having anger issues in the past few months. Literally everything and anything ticked him off, and Matthew's behaviour had infuriated the young clone. Yet, he shut his eyes tightly, gulping hard, and forced himself to smile, smile the way he had smiled at Snow on the couple of occasions they had met with him under disguise.

When Regal, or rather, Mars finally took to the streets, he momentarily forgot all about his troubles, a genuine smile playing lightly across his lips. Even today, when he walked freely in the open, there was something new about the Capitol that he could feel through his senses, his freedom of being able to roam around not robbing him of the feeling of joy to be able to do it. He passed the movie theatre, whistling a romantic tune, a spring in his steps that just appeared when he was out in the open without the fear of being identified and killed. It was this feeling that justified wearing kilos of makeup, for it was truly worth the hassle.

He was on his way to his special friend's place, and Mars did not want to take a car for it. The freedom of moving his body in broad daylight affected his mind in a way that he couldn't quite explain, and he was quite ready to walk long distances just to bask in that feeling. Ironically, it was this feeling that terrified him too; in a place like Panem, one needed to tread carefully regarding a concept like liberty, and Regal was guilty of indulging in it. He justified to himself that he had been dead so long, followed by months of staying underground, that he needed the feeling of the sun on his ghostly pale skin, on his platinum blond hair that nobody believed were natural except for himself, for they were, and that he needed the mild breeze to caress his neck, dry his sweat, and that he even needed the irritating things like dust sticking to his face, or the sun actually burning his skin. He was tired of sentencing himself to imprisonment for all these years, and he wanted to live.

But, he was practical, and practicality had no place for emotions. So, reluctantly, he hailed a taxi, the air conditioning annoying him despite it instantly working on cooling his sweaty body, and leaned back in the seat, the desire to look at anything suddenly diminishing to becoming almost non existent. This always happened, the moment he couldn't feel the surroundings, he didn't want to be in them. Thus, Regal shut his eyes as the taxi rode forward, his mind gears churning as they went back to Matthew.

Matthew Hayes had been his friend for a long time, long before Regal had died. He had been working hard in the absence of leadership to gather information and waiting for that leadership to emerge… Other than Regal, only three people knew he was on their side, and those three people were those he could trust with his life.

And that took his mind to the person he truly loved with all his heart, his best friend, his partner in sorrows and joy, the man who brought him back from the dead. Yes, he was eternally grateful to Ruby for making a clone out of him, a clone that was a stronger version of his real self, but it would have been impossible without Alan Aquila. Regal recalled with a vivid clarity how all those years ago Alan had turned up on his doorstep when he was a mere boy of fifteen, brought in Avoxed from District Five. Regal remembered how, even in his defeat, Alan had looked at Albert Winter in the eye while being tormented. Regal was himself a victim of his father's abuses, and the two boys had bonded over abuse and torment and loss of loved ones. Regal had been taken aback three years ago, when he had been given a second chance at life, only to see that Alan had had a mechanical tongue placed where his original one had been, and he could speak in that slow and reassuringly deep voice of his.

It had been two years since he had seen Alan face-to-face. Two years since he had held his friend, held him and derived strength from him, for Regal acknowledged that he was absolutely nothing without Alan Aquila. And he couldn't help but compare his two friends, his two friends that he cherished the most. The calm and firm Alan, who was bold as the fires that would burn the Capitol supremacy one day, and the cold and calculating Matthew, whose heart could be in the likeness of ice but who valued his life as dearly as Regal valued his cause, and it was this love for his life that worried him. It wasn't as if Regal couldn't understand the most natural instinct of loving your life even if he didn't relate to that sentiment, but he worried that Matthew could fall, something he wouldn't have to ponder on had it been Alan in this position insead, because Alan was selfless and brave. Regal hated himself for doubting his friend, but doubt was like that virus that ingrained itself within the body and didn't move out until it got a proper solution.

When he opened his eyes, he realised that the taxi was not moving down the track it was supposed to, for this was not the way to the official residence of the vice president. He found this extremely fishy, but didn't let anything show on his face, keeping his posture relaxed, but he was getting tensed. He knew what part of the Capitol he was in, and it wasn't somewhere dangerous, or anywhere more dangerous than the Capitol itself was. He didn't want to bother the driver, for he wanted to remain as unmemorable as he could, but at the same time the way the car was speeding away just did not sit well with him. He rested his hand calmly on the door handle of the car, eyes darting to the rearview mirror just to glimpse the driver, and that was when he realised how big of a fool he was. He hadn't bothered to look at the driver's face earlier, lost in his own insignificant thoughts, and it was now that he saw who it was.

If there was one person who was capable of finding him, it was Artemis Nightshade.

Regal had not known her for long. In a very recent turn of events, she had been appointed as the Head of Intelligence, and that was when he encountered her, again in the disguise of Mars Tartarus. He was aware that ever since late vice president Nerissa Verity passed away, it was Artemis Nightshade who was on his tail. However, he had never expected her to trap him in her car, driving him away to goodness knew where. Did she even know it was him? She was in a disguise herself after all, her face painted a beautiful hue of gold that shone brighter in the sun filtering in through the windows and her hair dyed a bubblegum pink, but he recognised her alright. And if he could do it, had she always known him as well?

She looked up into the rearview mirror, and that was where their eyes met. Regal kept himself calm, appearing tired and bored even, but he was honestly waiting for her reaction. As suspected, there was none.

"Excuse me, I think we're taking the wrong route."

"This is a short cut."

It was at that moment that he knew how deeply in trouble he was. He was being followed by Artemis Nightshade, who was driving him towards the outskirts of the Capitol and lying about it, and Regal was about to open the door and jump off the car when the car sped up even more, racing ahead as if to stop him from trying anything, for it would be suicidal.

"What are you doing?!"

Yes, he was probably caught, but that didn't mean he needed to drop the act before his cover was officially blown. So, he played Mars and panicked, demanding answers and squealing in fear and begging her to stop. Yet, she drove on and on and on, until seconds to minutes and minutes to hours. Regal saw with a sickening feeling that they really were officially out of the Capitol, and he didn't know what to do. He could confront her, but if there was any chance of keeping this persona up, he was taking it, even if that resulted in him losing his mind with worry and excitement.

And then, just like that, the car skidded to an abrupt halt.

Regal was thrown forward at the abruptness of this act, and it was enough time for Artemis to open his door and pull him out by the collar of his shirt, and pushing him down hard so that he was on the ground with a loud groan. He started backing away, looking as frightened as he felt, even as Artemis Nightshade started walking slowly towards him, her pace not rushed in the slightest, an air of authority and menace around her.

"Wh-who are you?!" Mars screamed, backing away even further, "What do you want?!"

"What do you want with the vice president?"

"He's my partner-"

"Nonsense."

She crouched down in front of him, black eyes boring into his soul, and probably for the first time Regal truly felt bare and exposed, with nowhere to hide and nothing to say, and he could attest to hating this feeling. Yet he met her gaze steadily, albeit trembling ever so slightly, but steadily nonetheless.

Artemis reached out for his face, cupping his cheek lightly with her hand, tilting her own head to the right as she studied him with an inexplicable sadness. He couldn't quite make anything out of this behaviour, and thus he slapped her hand away.

"I don't need to explain myself," he said shakily, trying to sound brave but failing miserably, "I'll tell him all about you."

"And what will you tell him about me?"

Regal couldn't really answer that question as flawlessly as he would have wanted to. If he said he knew who she was, that would be giving himself away, for she was still under disguise. If he said he did not know, he could still give himself away because despite the disguise she looked familiar to anyone who had seen her earlier. It was a dilemma, a question that was like a double edged sword, and so he decided to the only thing that seemed right to him.

He remained silent.

"Very well, I guess I've caught a terrorist."

And with that, she produced a gun from her jacket, a gun that looked like a mere toy, but Regal knew better for he had seen it before, and despite himself he couldn't keep the look of recognition from appearing on his face. How was this possible…?!

"Oh, so you know what this is. Very well, you just cleared any doubt I had."

And that was all he needed to know that his cover was blown. She might not know exactly who he was, but she had been keeping an eye on him, following his every movement, just for this little moment here. Mars Tartarus was at the mercy of Artemis Nightshade, for if he was right about the weapon, he wouldn't even have time to blink…

When Artemis Nightshade got ready to pull the trigger, he did the only thing he could possibly do to save himself. As a clone, he had much greater strength than most humans, much faster, and with greater instincts. Even as she fired, he moved with a rapidity that was unheard of, and ran towards the car, swiftly driving away. He could have fought her and he would have won too, but it was dangerous to remain near Artemis as long as she had that weapon, because if its rays would hit him, he would cease to exist in a matter of seconds…

He drove with the urgency of a dying man, his heart pounding in his ribcage with the rapidity of a person struggling for every breath. He was sweating, his eyes unable to see the way ahead clearly, for his mind was occupied with what had happened. He had become predictable in his actions over the past few months, and that was what had led Artemis to him. His little stunt might have alerted her of his reality too, and he cursed himself as he drove and drove, struggling to keep going, but clouded by the need to do so.

What bothered him the most, however, was not the fact that his truth might be out but the fact that she had _that_ gun. That weapon… he knew where it was from. _He_ had ordered it to be designed and produced after all, right in the depths of District Thirteen, away from the prying eyes of spies amongst the Capitolites.

Hand crafted by his dear friend, Opal Platinum.

**Hello all! Here's the third prologue for Sinners and Saints, and I hope you guys enjoyed it. Here, we meet our boy Regal aka Mars Tartarus again, along with a new character who's on his tail, Artemis Nightshade. Honestly, this chapter was so fun to write even though my writing wasn't at the same level as my previous chapter, but eh. This was fun. Let me know what you think of this chapter. I don't know who we'll meet next time, but I do think I'll cover either Snow or Coin. **

**I'm also pleased to announce that the submissions for this story are closed and that the tribute list has been finalised. Congratulations to those who made it in and I'm sorry to those who didn't. **

**The blog address is sinnersandsaintshg. Weebly. Com. **

**I'd appreciate a blog review as it takes a while to make it :)**

**Other than that, see you next time with another prologue.**

**Have a good day!**


	4. Chapter 4

Opal Platinum had a disaster waiting for her.

No, there was no natural calamity that had struck Thirteen, nor were they at active war. The destruction that was in front of her was different, very specific, almost as if to spite her, mock her form and truth. The smithereens that lay in front of her boiled her artificial blood, and she wanted to hunt down and kill whoever did this. Opal clenched her fists, lips quivering ever so slightly. She would wring the neck of the culprit, and she could feel it within her fingers, life slipping away from the brat behind this…

It was, however, time to control emotions and think the right question.

So, she frowned as the important questions flooded her mind. _How_ did this happen in the first place? District Thirteen was a safe place, its access restricted. No outsider could enter the supposedly destroyed District. Then how did this happen? Who did this? Who would want to do such a thing…? Was there a breach in security that she was not aware of?

And then came dread, dread about how she was going to inform _her_, her little sister Ruby. It would break her heart and push her to seek vengeance, vengeance that even Opal sought, but from whom? Whatever she thought, her mind just couldn't comprehend who could have done it. very few people knew of its existence even in Thirteen but…

She recalled how Alma Coin had summoned her, a look of panic on her usually calm face, and she told her what had happened. Opal had been unable to believe it, and she had been so angry that she broke a chair with an enraged kick, screaming in fury. She had stormed to this little haven here…only to see Alma was right.

When she would find the culprit, she would break them just like that pathetic chair.

It was then that she heard a commotion outside the chamber she was in, somebody was shouting, but she couldn't understand what was happening. Hand instinctively reaching for her holster, she quickly and stealthily made her way to the door that guarded this chamber, her eyes being scanned, and she went out into a clinically clean white corridor, when suddenly somebody grabbed her collar and pushed her to the wall.

Opal was taken aback for a second, and when she saw who it was, she was more confused than angry. Regal Winter looked beside himself with rage and he pressed hard against her, slamming her back into the wall.

"How did this happen?!"

"You know too?"

"Of course I know it! opal, don't act innocent! Are you helping them? Why wasn't I told that this happened?!

"I just found out!" she cried out and pushed him hard, her brute strength making his body crash into the opposite wall, "And don't you dare accuse me or treat me like this Regal, I'll forget you're my friend!"

"Well then, explain how despite all the security, despite it being classified information, despite the design being unique to _you_ did she have it!"

Opal blinked at that, perplexed at the question posed to her. Design? She had not designed it. What did he mean? It was now that she took the effort to look at him closely, and she saw that behind his audacity was fear, fear of something that had happened, and he blamed her… Of course something was wrong. Regal was someone who could keep his mind in such a situation, then what was the matter?

"What are you talking about Regal?"

"Your weapons!"

Opal took in a sharp breath, all the weariness draining out of her even as her mind kicked into battle mode, for what could be the matter with her weapons?

"What about them?!"

"How did Artemis Nightshade have them Opal?! Tell me!"

She did not even notice when he started shaking her, for she could not resist it. Those words… he must be lying. How could… how? Her heart was sinking now and she leaned against the wall for support. Her weapons were dangerous for mankind, for more lethal than any gun that was available, for it had the capacity to erase the existence of everything it targeted. If it were to fall in wrong hands…

"I didn't know about this…"

Regal released her shoulders, eyes having the manic look that always waned Opal that something bad was coming.

"What…?"

"I didn't know… I-I still have the weapons. And the designs. They're not gone, but…"

"But?"

"Could she have- could she have somehow gotten a copy of those designs?"

Dread seemed to fill Regal's eyes, and Opal was even more terrified when he started laughing, laughing like a maniac who had lost something precious, and he leaned on the wall beside her too, her voice increasing Opal's heartbeat. They were friends since years, from before the time they'd both died, and she knew that this was not good.

"You know what this means?" he said, his voice soft and low now, like the one in which a man talks to his love, and yet the madness was still there, "There's a traitor among us Opal. _Again._"

Opal Platinum inhaled deeply, shutting her eyes. How could she forget Tiara Elvin, the wolf in the skin of a sheep? The woman that had sold them all, the one because of whom she had died? Hell, even her own sister had died because of her! She remembered the betrayal as clearly as if it had happened just a couple of days ago, the wounds fresh in her mind. Were they dealing with someone like her again? if so, it would be difficult to spot the traitor. They would be hidden well, somebody who would be close to the leaders and would be present in Thirteen. But who…?

"Opal," Regal continued in the same tone, "Did Coin know about the designs?"

"Of course, she did. She gave me the resources to build it Regal!"

"Well, it seems we've found our traitor."

"_Coin?!"_

She stared at him incredulously even as he refused to speak another word, but she truly believed that he was out of his mind. Alma Coin had shared all her resources with the Capitol rebels. Her District, her people, her technology, everything! She had given refuge to so many of the rebels from throughout the country, welcoming one and all, and trained everyone for the war that was to come sooner or later. As the chief engineer of District Thirteen Opal had worked closely with Alma Coin on numerous occasions, as a trained warrior she had contributed in training the soldiers of Thirteen, and as a rebel she had strategised with Alma. Yes, she was a tough woman, but not someone who would betray the other rebels!

"She won't do such a thing."

"Oh really?"

"Yes."

Regal did not say anything, just looking at her through lidded eyes, his hair messed up as he was drunk. Speaking of which…

"Are you drunk?"

"What? No."

The chuckle after that told her he was lying.

She sighed, rubbing her brows with her finger and thumb. She didn't want to admit that she was tensed because that would not only show her weakness at this time of crisis but also worry others who counted on her to remain stoic and unfazed. However, it could not be ignored that the events were more than disturbing; first the earlier circumstance and now the weapons. She needed to get to the bottom of whoever was behind this as soon as she could, for this person could leak information and other secrets and resources to Snow. And that was something that had to be avoided.

It seemed as if something dawned on Regal, and he suddenly stood upright, turning to Opal with urgency in his eyes, and she was glad in her heart to see this sudden change in behaviour for it meant he was distracted from what had happened right now.

"Wait, before I told you about the weapons, you were talking about something else…?"

Opal let out a shaky breath and her friend frowned at that, for she never acted like this and he grabbed her wrist, still speaking in the strange manner that he had been, something Opal had not noticed till she realised that he was drunk.

"What's the matter?"

She looked into his eyes for a second, before averting them, beckoning him to follow her lead. Wordlessly, albeit a little confused and frowning, he did just that and was surprised at where she was leading him, for it was _that_ chamber, and as they stepped inside, his bright eyes took in the scene in front of him, the scene that had worried Opal to no end, and he let out a distressed laugh, the kind that was reserved for intense shock, for maybe the smithereens was that to him.

"H-h-_how_?!"

"I don't know… I was inspecting this before you came trying to strangle me."

Her words fell on deaf ears as her friend finally absorbed the scene to its full potential, and it made him fall on his knees, mouth agape, eyes wide and, Opal was astonished to see, bleak. A single tear rolled down his left cheek as his lower lip quivered, and in an instant Opal was kneeling beside him, pulling him into a sideways hug as they stared at the ruins of the best invention they had seen in their life.

"Well, Opal," Regal breathed out softly, "It seems that we're as mortal now as we were before."

Opal did not reply to that, her thoughts returning to Ruby, her little sister who spent years of hard work and research to create this masterpiece, this wonder. Opal could not believe that, in case she died again, she would not be coming back to life, for the thing that had created her and Regal was lying in destruction, the cloning machine bearing no resemblance to what it once was, and despite herself, maybe for the first time in her life, a sob escaped Opal's lips, for she could imagine vividly in her brain the tears her sister was going to shed.

Ruby's brain child was destroyed and there would be no more tampering with death itself.

* * *

Alan did not even know that he was here, in Thirteen.

It was through one of the other citizens that he found out that Regal was visiting, that he had met Opal and was having a meeting with Alma Coin, and it hit him hard. He did not want to be petty, for obviously Regal had important work and would meet the more… useful people first, but his heart felt as if it had been set aflame, for he was hurting that he did not meet _him_ even after being here for hours now. They were best friends, perhaps more than that, a relationship that Alan would describe as the purest form of love, the most unconditional and undemanding, for at least Alan loved him more than he loved himself. He did not expect it to be reciprocated; they had been apart for a long time now, but even five minutes of encounter would have made him happy at this moment, when he felt utterly useless being cooped up in this place, with only Cress being able to relate to him. Yes, Opal was his friend, and so were Nikona and Ryder, the escapees of the Seventy Second Games, but… but he just couldn't connect to them anymore. Opal did all the important work, Nikona and Ryder were training with the other Thirteen teenagers, and what were Alan and Cress doing? Nothing, absolutely nothing.

It was pathetic.

He yearned to get away from this place, to be back on the field and making himself useful in some way to someone. Opal often told him that he helped them by coding messages so that the Capitolites couldn't read them, but was Alan particularly required for that job? Not really. He was just useless, a piece of trash, and maybe Regal acknowledged that too now, that's why he didn't find him worthy of even two minutes of his time.

When Cress asked Alan whether he would like to come along to meet him post the meeting, he shook his head. If he was here, in Thirteen, it must be something very important, something that must have shaken him, and he would need to give his time to important discussions and such. He did not want to be a distraction, for what could Alan offer him or the cause right now anyway, stuck under the earth? Cress asked him again, but he refused, and so his roommate decided that he would catch up with their friend by himself. Patting Alan's shoulder lightly, he gave him a smile that was of understanding, a smile that told Alan that e was not alone feeling this way, but he was the only one of the two being this pessimistic. Thus, he smiled back at Cress, but stayed seated in his chair, not moving an inch and slowly, Cress removed his hand, his expression pained even as he let out a small chuckle before walking out. Alan could feel him turn back once at the door, staring into his soul, but the older man refused to respond, and soon after, Cress left.

He did not know how much time had passed even as he wallowed in self-pity, reflecting on the days when he used to give to the cause, when he was not a burden on anyone, when he was not just eating for free. He was glad he was alone right now; Cress seldom left him alone. Being alone, he allowed his hatred for himself and the feeling of being a waste take over, succumbing to his tears, sobbing quietly. He could not do that in front of Cress, it often worried the poor guy, but now he let his face fall in his hands and weep.

He did not realise when the door had opened, but he felt someone sit beside him, and he looked up through blurry eyes at the man that had unconsciously pained him, and yet he couldn't help but let out a weak laugh of happiness and joy as Regal cupped his face in his hands, gently wiping his tears off his cheeks. The two said nothing, just looking at each other as if trying to memorise the face of the other, basking in the glow of happiness and satisfaction. Alan did not try to stop himself from crying, the other man had seen his tears when nobody else had, and he did not try to stop him either. Nothing else in this room existed for him now, except for his friend, and he was not aware about how much time had passed since Regal held his face with the gentleness of a mother, and slowly, with quite a lot of pauses, Alan leaned forward into his chest, finally hugging him like a frightened and lost child even as Regal took him in an embrace, the younger man's lips gently touching the forehead of the other. The two held each other wordlessly, for words were not something they needed to understand each other.

Alan had missed him dearly.

"I want to help," he whispered almost inaudibly but Regal said nothing to that, shushing him immediately. It wasn't before Cress, who had been observing and smiling at them from the doorway, coughed and made them aware of his presence did they break apart, and Alan quickly wiped his tears away, going back to looking stoic. He turned to Regal again and repeated what he had said.

"And you will," the other man replied, a sad smile on his face, "You will. You both will. Cress, please come inside and shut the door."

A little confused and slightly worried, Alan watched as his friend walked in discreetly, sitting down on the bed, a few feet away from the other two, as if trying to give them space. Alan appreciated that, but at the same time he didn't really mind having him close by too; why would he not like the company of his good friends? He was about to gesture to Cress to scoot over when Regal leaned forward, a hand placed on his thigh as the look of business came back on his face.

"I need you two to do something for me."

Alan was excited after a long time; after all, he had done _nothing_ in what felt like an eternity, time that had been flying endlessly, and he was exhausted with his own uselessness. Thus, his ears perked up, all too eager to know what he could possibly offer. Was he, perhaps, leaving Thirteen finally? That would be just surreal for him, he knew it.

"I need you guys to _watch_ and to _listen._"

Alan stared at Regal for a good five seconds, blinking as he tried to process his words. _Watch _and _listen_? What did that mean? He shared a fleeting glance with Cress, who seemed as perplexed as he himself felt.

"What?" Cress asked, a little too loud for Alan's taste, and Regal shushed him immediately.

"Watch and listen. As simple as that."

And then he turned back to Alan, his gaze as strong as walls of steel, and it was then that the older man realised what they were asked to do. His shoulders slumped at that, for he had been expecting something better than to keep an eye on things, but he said nothing even as his heart started drowning in the toxic ocean of worthlessness. He made no move, said no word, probably still hoping for Regal to add something.

"It's important," was all that he said, his face turned into a worried frown.

"Alright," was all Alan could reply.

And probably he had hoped that his friend would stay, whisper a few more words of comfort to him, but the leader stood to his feet with vigour of having finished an arduous task, and gave him a quick hug, before leaving the room.

And Alan just stared at the empty chair that was left, his brain ignoring the voices of his other friend, and he just kept on staring as his heart turned hollow with each passing second, even as a shaky breath of disappointment and loss escaped his chipped lips.

* * *

There were a lot of things that bothered him, but this was a mere annoyance.

Coriolanus Snow sat in his high chair, elbows resting on the pristine desk in his office, the fingers interlaced, as he regarded the woman in front of him silently. She was new to the job, a simple girl by all means, and a simple child for him, but he knew what she was capable of. And yet, the news she brought was, how to phrase it? - _stale._ Well, he couldn't blame her as he hadn't disclosed it to anyone yet, for he had wanted to observe the proceedings like spectator, dissecting the truth and hunting the prey at an opportune time. But here she was, with the news, and he wondered whether he should admit to her that he already knew about it.

He was not interested in knowing whether Mars Tartarus was Regal Winter, he had known it for the longest time; he was interested to know whether Matthew Hayes knew about his _special friend_. The vice president seemed to be quite oblivious of the fact, and it irritated Snow to no end, but he was a mere boy, still learning and growing, and was prone to make errors. And anyway, through him, Snow kept an eye on 'Mars' even though he did not know it. Snow admitted to himself that he wouldn't be so forgiving if he wasn't getting something out of Matthew's naiveite regarding this matter, and he let out a mild chuckle at that, to which Artemis Nightshade frowned.

"Very well, Artemis. I'll keep this in mind."

The Head of Intelligence was not flabbergasted at the lack of surprise; she had kind of expected it. however, it was her job to report whatever she knew, and she did that regardless of anything. She also had to ask for permission, for she knew she was going to make a demand that could be called outrageous, but her job was of utmost importance to her.

"Mr Snow, sir," she started, "I apologise for what I am about to ask, but it is in no way to defy your authority or to offend you."

"Speak fearlessly, Artemis."

"Sir, I want to personally investigate Mr Hayes' link to this situation."

Her words were absorbed into silence as their eyes met, the old man's face completely unreadable. He was taken aback by her words, for he had not thought she would dare to ask for an investigation on the vice president; it could amount to treason. And yet…

He sat up straighter as Artemis looked on, and slowly nodded at her. A faint smile flickered on her face, and she bowed just a little, eye not leaving his.

"Thank you, sir. I'll take your leave now."

"Be discreet about it," Snow added, "He shouldn't know."

Artemis smirked back at him and nodded, before turning on her heels and walking out, so light footed that he could not even hear her steps, and Snow was sure that by the time he would reach the door, she would disappear from the long corridor entirely.

Now being all alone, Snow laughed out. He had both the rebelling forces in his clutches, and they did not even know it! Coin was about to be finished, and Regal could be wiped out easily whenever he felt like it. He smirked to himself as he glanced at the glass chandelier above, the twinkling matching his own emotions, and satisfied, he rearranged his features to the stoic man he was for the meeting with Claudia that was about to begin.

Ah, things were going well at last.

* * *

**Hello guys. So, I know this is long overdue. Things have been hectic, and this kept getting pushed but its finally out. Please do let me know your thoughts on this chapter. I enjoyed writing it, and I hope you enjoyed reading it too.**

**I'll be starting with the tribute introductions from next chapter, so it's time for the first check in. A check in is a message you PM me that answers the question I have for you. It's just for me to know whether you're reading or not.**

**The question is- Will your tribute colour their hair? If so, which colour? Just PM me the answer under the title Check-1.**

**I hope to see you next chapter!**

**Have a great day! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Introductions**

* * *

**District Three**

* * *

**Scala Script, 66**

**District Three Male**

_**Two weeks before the quell announcement**_

* * *

Most people in District Three would have negative connotations to working out and maintaining physical health, but not Scala Script.

The garden of his villa in the Victor's Village was huge, and just as it had been for the past fifty years. There were wild trees there that Scala refused to remove, shrubs at their base, bushes with flowers, and a wildness that was in the likeness of a forest. Scala ran in his garden, his feet bare, the thorns and the twigs and the soil pricking them, but he paid them no heed. He was used to them now, they being their only friends in the past fifty years.

As he ran, maintaining his pace, he thought about his life till now. He thought about the modelling projects he'd been offered in his youth that he had rejected. He thought about the Capitol that had wanted to make him a 'star', but he had declined that too. He also thought about the people in his District, the people who had cheered for him when he'd returned home, a victor supreme among all victors, five decades ago, and how he'd pushed them away and confined himself to his villa.

In all these fifty years, Scala did not regret any of the above choices.

He slowly came to a halt, his breathing just a little faster. It wasn't a big deal, he'd aged quite a bit and couldn't work out the way he could in his youth, but he'd still consider himself fit. Not that it mattered to him. Working out and actually working were just ways to deal with everything that happened, his emotions, the lack of people in his life… everything.

Earlier, he had his mother. They didn't live in the same house, but at least he had her. His mother always looked out for him, checked in on him, made ends meet when he was a kid by working the whole day and the whole night at the factory. It had been quite a long time since she was gone, but Scala missed her. He didn't show it, not even to himself, but he missed her nonetheless.

As he sat down on a beautiful bench made of oak, right under this large tree whose shade shielded him from the glaring sun, Scala thought back to when he was a child. He was a fit guy, and not academically smart at all. It just did not come to him naturally, and he was what people called 'more brawn than brains'. Ever since a young age, he was told that it was a bad thing. In fact, it was such a bad thing that his District had voted him into the Games all those years ago. He still found it appalling. While most Districts had sent in people who were criminals or who'd just wanted to be in the first 'special games', he was sent in because he liked to do physical work rather than studying. Something that day snapped within him, and he just couldn't accept District Three as his home anymore.

He felt frustrated now, frustrated at everything. And so, he did what he always did when he was frustrated, he closed his eyes and thought about that incident in the Games, the one that he remembered the most vividly.

_Sixteen year old Scala was running. He had been hiding all these days, but for how long? Ultimately he was hungry and scared, and he had gone to get berries. The arena was kind in its nature that it provided the kids with food, namely edible berries and fruits, for nobody in their right mind would kill a dinosaur and _eat _it. Speaking of dinosaurs, he had some on his tail right now. A group of velociraptors, to be exact, although Scala didn't know what he was supposed to do with that information. Thankfully, they were small, about two feet in height and six feet in length. Other dinosaurs, like the T Rex he had punched earlier, were much larger than he could have handled in ordinary times. These were, however, no ordinary times, and Scala was forced to handle things he couldn't have dreamt of._

_Like running from a herd of very angry velociraptors._

_He needed a distraction, and he needed it _now_. But what could he possibly do that would save his life? He did not know. In desperation, he veered off course, running through the foliage, the twigs and thorns and leaves cutting his skin and he bled. He cursed, knowing that the scent of blood would attract those darned mutts, but what else could he do? He had to just hope that he lost them._

_He stopped by a strong, thick tree with solid branches and lots of leaves. He didn't know what tree it was, and found it bizarre that he was even thinking about tree names in such a situation. Hastily, he climbed it until he found a branch high enough to support his weight but not so high that he would die if he were to fall down. Concealing himself with leaves, he waited._

_He did know how much time had passed. Maybe it was just a few seconds. Maybe it was a couple of hours. He had lost sense of time. All he knew that he was watching and waiting. Something nagged at him to jump and leave, that those monsters wouldn't come after him now, that they'd lost him. And yet, he stayed._

_It was probably a good thing that he did._

_There it was, a lone member of its massive group, looking as lost as Scala felt. It was hunting to kill, but it was separated from its kind, the way Scala was after those monsters back in Three voted him into the 'Quarter Quell'. Scala readied himself, casting a glance to see if any of its mutt friends had followed it. Seeing that there was none, Scala tensed, eyes focused on the little mutt. If he could punch a T Rex in the face, he could get away with what he was planning to do._

_As soon as the poor velociraptor was right underneath his tree, Scala jumped. The boy landed on the dinosaur, catching it by surprise, and as it struggled to throw him off itself and eat him up, Scala hit it hard on the head, shocking it, before reaching for its teeth. It was a crazy idea, borderline insane too, but Scala managed it. _

_After a good bit of struggle, the velociraptor was dead, its bloody teeth in Scala's hands, wrenched out with such brutal force that he almost felt sorry for the poor thing._

_Almost._

_Scala was panting hard. He stepped back shakily, astonished at what he had just done, and immediately reached out for leaves, load and loads of leaves, to wipe off the blood from his face, his hands, his soul. He had just killed something. Yes, it had just been a mutt, but that still counted. _

_Scala looked at its vicious teeth that he had ripped out. He exhaled shakily as he crouched down, inspecting the sharp objects. Well, at least he finally had weapons… _

Scala didn't know why he always thought of that one incident whenever he felt particularly sad or restless. He had killed a Career with his bare hands. He had won the first Quarter Quell. Yet, only that one incident stuck with him like his own shadow.

He stood up again, his face stoic, and cracked his knuckles. He didn't know what the point of his existence was, especially since his mother was gone. He just knew that he would continue.

And so, he ran.

* * *

**Mel Sartow, 23,**

**District Three Female**

_**Two months before the quell announcement**_

* * *

"Miguel! I told them not to give them so much cheesy food!"

"Come on Mel, sweetheart, they're kids. Let them have fun."

"By eating junk?"

Miguel chuckled from the sofa he was sitting on, reading a magazine, shaking his head at his wife. Mel crossed her arms and glared down at him, narrowing her hazel eyes, pouting her lips to show him that she was 'furious', which only set him laughing even more.

"Everyone eats junk, Mel. It's good once in a while."

"It's good _once_ in a while," Mel said, emphasising the word. And then she sighed deeply, releasing her arms and sitting down beside her husband. He put an arm around her and she leaned against his shoulder, fiddling her fingers.

"You know they need to be fit."

"They're six, Mel. They deserve to have fun."

"I'm not saying they shouldn't have fun. I'm saying they shouldn't eat junk."

"You worry too much," Miguel said, pulling her into a warm hug, "Nothing's going to happen to them."

"I can't be so sure," Mel replied, her face darkening immediately, "This year will be a Quell. Who knows what they'll pull off? What if they say only kids will be Reaped? My babies need to be ready for that."

"So we give them a knife instead of a toy."

Mel inhaled sharply. She knew Miguel did not particularly approve of her training the kids with weapons, since they were only six, but she couldn't take a chance. She did not trust the Capitol. They'd reap a victor's chil just for the thrill of it. And what would become of her poor babies then? They did not understand why she strictly controlled their diet, made them exercise so hard and Miguel was horrified when she gave them a knife each. They even argued over it, and she and Miguel rarely argued. However, she was not listening to his 'they're just children' argument. They needed to be ready for that exact reason. Nobody but a victor could understand her decisions.

"Yes Miguel, that's exactly what we need to do."

He sighed, shoulders drooping. It hurt Mel, seeing him so downcast, but there were some decisions that had to be taken for the family. What would become of her without her family? Nothing. She'd be destroyed. It was her duty to save those who mattered to her more than her life, and while Miguel did not agree with her methods, she knew he loved them to death too.

"I still think they deserve a cheat day."

"Alright," Mel said, "Let's have a deal. If the quell announcement doesn't involve kids, they'll have the weekend off every week since then. But till then, they'll have to work hard."

"I- sure."

"I know this is hard for you, honey," Mel said, her voice sad, for what kind of mother gave her toddlers weapons instead of letting them play with toys? "It's for the family. You know you all matter the world to me."

"I know Mel, I know."

That was when the kids came in, running after each other, two little adorable goofballs. Fier and Bie stopped on seeing their mother, smiling coyly. Neither of them liked training, and they often protested it, especially Fier. She made a sour face but quickly recovered from it.

"Papa, let's play something," she said.

Miguel chuckled at his daughter and lifted her up as she wrapped her tiny arms around his neck, grinning innocently.

"What would you like to play?" he asked, ruffling Bie's hair even as she laughed quietly, blushing in her naivete. She glanced at her twin, as if waiting for her to take the initiative to make their Papa play with them. After all, it had been a good many days since they played something _nice._

"We want to play with Marlene," Fier said, grinning about her doll, "She's going to make tea for us."

"Really? That's sweet of her!"

Mel watched as Fier and Bie exchanged a knowing glance. She saw the hope in their eyes, that perhaps on that blessed Sunday they could get away with no exercise, eating junk food _and_ playing a game that did not require any physical activity. Mel loved her children and hurting them would sear her heart wholly. Yet, she steeled herself and took in a breath. The children wanted to play? They would. Just not with Marlene.

"Dear, how about we let Marlene rest today?" she started kindly, smiling at the little girls, "I'm sure she's tired, and if she continues she'll fall sick."

"Um…"

"I know! There's this really fun game that you'll love! All of us can play that together, and Marlene can rest up and make tea tomorrow."

"Oh!" Fier said, her large eyes glinting as she looked at her Mama in anticipation, "What will we play Mama?"

"We'll play 'Catch the Monster'!"

"What's 'Catch the Monster'?" Fier asked curiously.

"Which monster will we catch?" Bie asked, clapping her hands in excitement.

"Papa will be the monster," Mel said, spreading her hands like claws to imitate a scary monster that earned a laugh from the kids, "And we'll catch him!"

"Wait," Miguel blinked, pointing a finger at himself, "_I'll_ be the monster?"

"Uml, yes. I mean, you'll make a good monster."

"We'll dress you up Papa, to make you look scary," Fier said, laughing.

"Well, if that's the case then I'll be the best monster ever!"

"What happens after we catch him?" Bie asked, falling down squarely on the sofa and looking up at her mother in the most endearing fashion that she could have mustered.

"Then we take turns to be the monster and catch them, because nobody should be left out."

"Yay!"

"We'll catch monsters!"

Mel smiled at them affectionately, ruffling their hair. She glanced at Miguel, who nodded at her with a slight smile, and allowed the kids to lead him into their room where they could make him look scary. The thought made Mel grin widely. No matter how much they tried, Miguel could never look like a monster.

Mel was herself not in the mood to play, but she figured this was the best way to keep the kids engaged. If she could make them run their daily dose on the pretext of playing, she was fine by it. After all, nobody said that her babies couldn't have fun while training. She knew that, had she ordered them to train, they'd get even more sour.

As she waited for her family to come for playing, she hoped against hope that her concern was unnecessary and that her babies remained safe.

* * *

**District Five**

* * *

**Tayuya Elodie-Leight, 28**

**District Five Female**

_**During the announcement of the quell**_

* * *

Saying that Tayuya Elodie-Leight was nervous would be a huge understatement.

She was fidgeting in her seat as she stared at the television engraved in the wall. Her family surrounded her, and unlike the usual bustle, there was a grave silence that engulfed them all. Tayuya had not done much of mentoring since she had been studying at the culinary school and honing her talents, talents that even the Capitol appreciated. Well, of course they did. Not only had she impressed them with her cooking during her Games, she'd also taken down her competitors with it. However, those were matters of the past, and she decided to let them remain so.

But the truth was still the same. Tayuya was not a mentor. She was never forced into it as she was doing something the Capitol could appreciate. She had worked in so many restaurants in Five, and she was sure that the day when she would be working in the Capitol was not far.

But right now, that goal had to be kept aside. A bigger problem loomed over her, a problem she didn't have a solution to. She hoped the Quell was not something drastically tough, like sending little toddlers into the Games. She didn't know whether she could bring herself to guide them in such a situation.

She felt her parents wrap their arms around her on either side of her, and while she made a face to assure them that she was fine, she greatly appreciated the gesture.

She watched in a morbid anticipation as Snow took the podium amidst a deafening applause. Usually, he did not concern himself with the Games, but this was a Quell. Tayuya leaned forward a bit, her dark eyes glued to the screen, as Snow started.

"Before I proceed to read out the twist of the Quell, I would like to thank our current Head Gamemaker Matthew Hayes for his continuous services. He has produced Games that have been magnificent and have truly carried our traditions. He also took the pains to be the interim Head Gamemaker for the previous year while we were looking for someone else who could match his legacy. Luckily, we have found that someone. Matthew, thank you so much for your services as the Head Gamemaker."

New Head Gamemaker? Tayuya was surprised at this. Her siblings were too, apparently, for they gasped at the news. Tayuya was anxious now. Who was the new Head Gamemaker? With Matthew, she had _some_ idea of how he did things. She didn't understand how Snow could change the Head Gamemaker during a Quell. Wouldn't he want somebody experienced?

"Panem, welcome your new Head Gamemaker: Claudia Horatio!"

The temperature seemed to have dropped a few degrees at those cursed words. The screen showed the beautifully smug face of Claudia Horatio, basking haughtily in her glory, and Tayuya rolled her eyes. She had been the interviewer! And a regular gamemaker, but nobody ever counted that. _Why_ was Snow entrusting someone like her with the responsibility of handling a Quell? There were more things that crossed Tayuya's mind. Claudia was everything she disliked in a person; fake, boastful and cruel. She had a way of getting into people's heads, no matter how smart they were, and of talking sweetly when she was planning ways to destroy her enemies… or anyone she didn't take a liking to. Long story short: she was petty.

She watched with a rising anxiety as Snow buried his hand into the bowl of cards, cards that had the twists written on them years ago, or so they maintained anyway. She crossed her legs, eyes fixed, and blinked despite not wanting to, her heart filling with dread and excitement at the same time.

And then he said it.

"On the 75th anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors."

It seemed somebody had whistled in her ear, just that the sound grew louder and louder by the second. The light seemed to have gone off, and she was there in utter darkness, unable to see a thing, unable to hear anything other than the darned whistle. She just sat there, unmoving, for the world seemed to have come to a halt.

Then she screamed.

She had honestly never screamed as loudly in her life as she did then. Her throat was begging her to stop, her vocal cords were on the verge of collapsing, but she continued screaming. She was yelling out gibberish, and all she saw was red. All she saw was blood, blood of the people she had killed. She saw Orlando who choked on his own blood when she fed him poison, she saw his eyes and she saw the pain in them.

"Tayuya calm down!" somebody said.

But she was calm, other than the whistling. She didn't know who was doing that, but it made her head hurt. Her voice was so high and so hoarse at the same time that she didn't know whether it was her voice. Tayuya flailed her arms, knocking down something, then something else, the whistling just not stopping the red against the complete darkness blinding her…

And then, everything stopped.

Her breath was ragged, laboured. Her chest was heaving. She saw the television, and Snow was still at the podium, getting ready to leave.

"How long… ?" she asked, her voice stiff and her throat sore, making her cough a couple of times.

"About twenty seconds," her mother whispered, pulling her into a hug, "Ev-everything will be alright."

"Yeah kiddo," her father muttered, trying his best to comfort her, "It doesn't have to be you."

She nodded at them, not really registering their words. So this was what Snow had planned, eh? Throw them back in? Tayuya clenched her fists at that. He had no business, no freaking business to do this to them again! They had earned their right to live! _She_ had earned her life for herself!

Oh, if only she could strangle that old man right now…

* * *

**Sasha Flame, 24**

**District Five Male**

_**Two months five days before the quell announcement**_

* * *

He couldn't believe he'd managed to pull it off.

Sasha Flame was a high functioning alcoholic, pretty much addicted to anything and everything, and he could swear on his life how difficult it was to stay away. Yet, that particular day, he did it. No alcohol. No tobacco. No drugs. Nothing.

It was hard but he was determined to do it. Being high, or not taking substances, did not really affect his external behaviour much, contrary to popular belief. He didn't know why it happened, he was always sober no matter how much he'd drank, but today he was trying to be actually sober.

Let's do it.

He groomed himself well, actually shaving off his beard, brushing his wild hair and taking his time to choose an outfit, a nice black T shirt with a grey jacket and dark blue jeans. He actually looked more boyish than he did in his boyhood, and the thought made him chuckle.

He was determined to do things correctly.

So, he walked into the gym at his Victor's Villa, where his wife Ruby was practicing throwing punches. She did that quite often, being from One and having to maintain constant fury and all. Sasha admitted that, even after years of marriage, and she living undercover as Micky, she was still terrifying.

"What's the matter?" she asked, wiping the sweat off her face with a towel.

"I was thinking… how about we go on a drive?"

Her eyes widened at his words, her jaw dropping to the floor, and her face looked anxious. She hurried over to him and placed the back of her hand against his forehead to see if he was okay.

"Not funny," he muttered awkwardly, "I'm serious."

"You're seriously trying."

Sasha swallowed a lump in his throat when he saw a smile on his wife's face, a genuine smile and not her mocking smirk. She grabbed his shoulders, staring into his eyes, and Sasha found himself nodding.

He and Ruby had come a long way. They'd been married for over four years, but their marriage was not based on love. They'd done it because they hated each other, in a very strong sense of the word, and they couldn't live without hating each other. Slowly, they started working together and now, all these years later, he knew he loved his worst enemy.

However, his dilemma was that he knew how to act towards her when he hated her. It was easy being sarcastic and occasionally rude, but now he had no idea what to do. He could never interact with girls without stammering anyway, and had no prior experience of any kind of love. He just didn't know how he could convey it.

"I'll be ready in a minute," Ruby said, making sure she didn't force him into saying anything else. And he was grateful to her. It was already a task to appear cheerful amidst all that was going on with his life and with the rebels.

Ruby did not take long at all. She'd put on her typical full sleeved silk jacket over her dress and hadn't bothered with make-up, something Sasha appreciated a lot. She was gorgeous the way she was, she needed nothing else.

"Ugh, I _hate _dresses," she muttered and he gave a light chuckle at that. Ever since they'd had to 'kill off' Ruby and create the persona of Micky, she'd been having issues with dresses. Ruby hated them because she believed she couldn't fight in them if needed, and she had to wear full sleeves to hide her rippling muscles that had come from years of hard work.

Sasha muttered to her regarding how stunning she looked, earning an amused glance, and he nervously started the car. It was only now that he set off did he realise that maybe he should have had a drink after all. He was already thinking when he could have a drink next, his throat seemingly parched, but he tried to ignore that. Right now, his focus was his wife, and his wife alone.

She was quiet while he drove, but he knew it was a peaceful silence. The night was deserted and Ruby was lightly humming a tune, a little smile on her beautiful face. Sasha had never seen her hum before, and soon he was grinning. He increased the speed and Ruby laughed out.

"Faster!" she exclaimed.

He did just that.

"Sasha, what do you think will happen-"

"Shush," he said softly, "Not now. Right now it's just us."

Ruby chuckled heartily at that, her laugh loud and musical, and he found himself blushing when her calloused hand lightly brushed his.

"Right. Just us."

He turned into this deserved highway, keeping the speed at just what she liked. He was enjoying her company, however silent it was, but the constant urge to drink was making it difficult to focus. He licked his lips and then bit on the lower one in the hopes that he could control his urges till he at least reached back home, but apparently she noticed it.

"We can stop for a drink," she said, her tone slightly worried.

_Yes please! _

"Nah. I'm fine. I'm great actually."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

He reached out for her hand, hoping she wouldn't pull it away. Thankfully, she didn't. She let him squeeze her hand and as they drove she joked, "Can you make this memorable? For both of us?"

He knew she was joking, her voice was mirthful and she looked happy enough to be out at night on a long drive. But that sentence made Sasha's resolve break, and he ultimately did what he was best at doing; being a jerk.

And so, in purely innocent jest, he rammed the car into a wall.

"What the heck!" Ruby exclaimed at the impact, even as steam started rising from the bonnet.

"I'm sorry. I just thought-"

"Intentionally throwing your car against a wall will make it memorable?"

He covered his face with his hands, torn among the desire to cry, to laugh, to just be embarrassed or all three. He decided the last option suited him best, and was about to aplogise when Ruby stepped out of the car. Reluctantly, he did so too.

"Well, you were absolutely right," she said as she inspected the damage, "This totally made it memorable."

And, to his utter surprise, she threw back her head and laughed, her voice beautiful and elated.

"I'm so glad you did this. I was kind of worried what happened to you but I guess everything is fine."

"Hey!" he protested, "I don't always destroy my car!"

"No, but you're always a jerk," she laughed, "And that's why I love you, because I'm one too!"

"I-I love you too, Ruby."

And his heart started hammering in his chest. There, he finally said it. He did it, he did it! He was ready for any kind of reaction now; mockery, yelling, anything. Hence, what came next surprised him, for she gave him a tight hug.

"I know," she whispered in his ear before pulling away, the smirk back on her face, "Go on, you idiot. Fix this problem you've created!"

And they both chuckled at that.

He was honestly lucky today. He got it all out, he'd made a good first attempt at being decent, and had a memorable evening.

Surely, nothing could go wrong between them.

* * *

**Hello! Welcome to the first introductions for Sinners and Saints. I present to you Districts Three and Five. Let me know your thoughts on these victors. I'd love to hear them! I'm sorry if the chapter is off, I'm writing this at 5 AM and I'm drowsy, so please excuse minor errors. However, if the tribute portrayals were off, kindly PM me to let me know so I can correct it the next time I write them.**

**Please read and review as active readers have a better chance at making it farther. **

**Have a great day!**


	6. Chapter 6

_**Trigger warning: May's section is a little... Strange. I don't know what to call her thought process but it might come across as offensive. If you want, let me know and I'll summarise it for you.**_

**Introductions**

**District Twelve**

* * *

**Haladis Sinti, 36**

**District Twelve Female**

_**Two weeks before the Quell announcement**_

* * *

Usually, she was glad about being alone.

Sometimes, she missed her family. Some other times, she felt lonely.

Most of the time, she just felt curious and angry.

Haladis Sinti had taught herself to live her life alone. It had been really hard in the beginning, for hers was a loving family, and a family she loved wholeheartedly. But now, after years of being alone… she was used to it. Haladis could say that isolation was her best friend, her true companion, truer than even her shadow, and now she would feel strange if she would have company.

She did wish that her family was still around. It had been almost two decades now, but she still yearned for her parents' presence, and she wished her brother could have a chance at life the way she did.

All because of that horrible, _horrible_ man.

The former mayor of Twelve, Lignitius, had been a wicked man, or so her father had told her when he pushed her to train all those years ago. Haladis remembered being shaken after her brother's Reaping and death in the Games, and her own thoughts about how crazy her father sounded when he kept on saying that she would be next. She did not question his persistence to get her ready, however, and his suspicions were confirmed when she was indeed Reaped into the Fifty Fifth Games.

With a blindfold to block out the vivid visuals of the asylum themed arena and brass knuckles, along with crayons to keep her sane by drawing out parts of her life and her brother's death to block out the sounds, she managed to win. It was still surreal, a part of her unable to believe that she had survived in that manic setting even after so many years. At that time, however, Haladis did not celebrate her victory. She was stumped by the accuracy of her father's fears, and she was horrified when she found her parents' mutilated bodies in their house…

It was frustrating that her father did not trust her with any information other than repeatedly telling her that Lignitius was a horrible man with vile intentions and wicked aspirations. She growled in frustration, before slamming her desk slightly with her palm, the wood sticking to her skin due to sweat, but then she sighed. It did not matter that her father gave her no information, she couldn't stay furious at him, especially when he was no longer present to defend his decisions. Of course, it would have made things much easier to investigate and saved her invaluable years that she had spent on collecting evidence on had he mentioned at least something useful.

_You really believe that?_

The woman pursed her lips at the question, her eyes narrowing. She disliked it when she was questioned this way, questioned about her intentions. Why would she stall the investigation that would unravel _why_ her whole family was massacred? The only reason she took so long was because she was investigating alone, without resources, without help, against the most powerful person in her District. That's what it was all about.

_Really Haladis? You're making excuses, again?_

"I don't make excuses," she muttered, clenching the fingers of her left hand with her right, staring intently at the desk, sheets of white paper engraved in ink splattered over it. Her glare was strong, fiery, as she thought about the words that had just echoed through her conscience. She wasn't making excuses… or she wanted to believe anyway. Haladis firmly stood by the statement that she had put in all her efforts into the investigation to uncover the truth of the former mayor. And yet…

_Stop lying to yourself._

"I don't lie," she said at once, knowing that it was a lie right away. Of course, she wouldn't say that out loud.

_Eh?_

"Okay, alright, that was a lie. But I'm not making excuses!"

Her conscience, like an irritating friend, sighed dramatically, and she could imagine it shrugging. She stood up at that, pushing herself away from the table, and turned her back to it. She did not want to admit it, not what was there in her heart, the fear that her life would be completely meaningless if…

"Stop right there," she whispered, biting her lower lip down hard. She started towards the door, hand resting on the handle for no more than eight seconds, but those eight seconds told her everything she needed to know.

Her mind was in a turmoil.

Her life had been that of solitude ever since she won the Games and lost everything that meant something to her. Her life, the years that she had spent just on getting information, had been full of trying to get information so that she could avenge her family, and perhaps save other families from suffering through an ordeal like her own. But now… now that she was closer to the goal of her life, she had no idea about what her life was anymore. Was there any purpose left in it? Once the culprits were behind bars, what was she supposed to do to deal with the solitude, her only companion for years? That was a question that her heart was unwilling to answer, or even ponder on. She did not want to accept that, as of then, she had literally no other purpose in life.

She stormed out of the room, eyes just a little bleak, as she realised that her conscience had indeed pointed out the truth.

She had been making excuses.

* * *

**Zorro Wolfmire, 46**

**District Twelve Male**

_**Three months three days before the Quell announcement**_

* * *

It had been a long day at work.

Zorro was glad that the sun was finally setting across the horizon. He felt exhausted right now, and was just ready to lie down straight away. Of course, that wasn't what he did. He was too sweaty and muddy to just lie down anywhere, so he first took a long shower, deliberately keeping the water cold, for while he was tired, he wanted to feel wide-awake.

When he got dressed into lighter clothes, he remembered that he was supposed to prepare dinner as well. Zorro sighed, not wishing to move an inch to get it done. He looked at the ornate clock that he had set up in the living room, one of the few luxurious items that he had bothered spending a hefty amount on, and saw that it was almost 7 at night. Not too late to be honest, so maybe he could afford a few minutes of rest.

Zorro stretched and sank into his bed, shutting his eyes and letting the comfort of the bed calm him down. He had been distracted throughout the day while working on his farm, and he just wanted to relax a bit. He could sense it coming, the disaster that he had seen coming years ago, and that it was almost upon him. Zorro did not know what exactly it was, or how it would unfold, but he knew a tragedy was coming his way, a tragedy that would affect him in terrible ways. He could always sense them, almost as if he had a sixth sense telling him of unfortunate events, although never specifying what they were until they were upon him.

Not that it bothered him anymore. In all honesty, nothing bothered him much anymore, and if there was any guarantee that the disaster would only affect him and not Priscilla, he would not even be tensed right now.

Zorro covered his head with his forearm, sighing quietly. He didn't want to cook, but it was important to feed Priscilla at the right time and put her to bed. After all, why should she stay up late because of him? He groaned as he opened his eyes slowly, and sat up before swinging his feet off his bed. He briefly wondered whether Priscilla would have liked his house in the Victor's Village better. It had more amenities after all, and was truly beautiful, at least in a more materialistic way.

He could never accept that as his home.

The only reason that he had stayed there for a very brief duration was because his parents had thrown him out when he had returned victorious from the Games all those years ago. Zorro wanted to believe that they were pleased to see him alive, and would forgive him someday for what he had done during the Games. That day, unfortunately, never arrived, for both his parents succumbed to pneumonia. Being the only family member alive, he had come back to the farm, his true home and had lived there since.

As he started making soup nonchalantly, Zorro thought about how he would have reacted had Priscilla been in his place and he was in his parents'. Would he have been as forgiving as he had hoped his parents would be or would he have behaved just like them? He never blamed them for their reaction and behaviour in his heart, for he knew what he had done was despicable, but he was only human.

Survival came first to humans.

"Hey dad."

Zorro smiled lightly on hearing that, and turned towards the little girl who stood at the doorway in her blue dress, hair tied in pigtails. She was grinning at him, and he gestured at the child to come closer, at which she ran into his arms.

"How was your day at school?" Zorro asked as he turned back to the stove.

"It was okay," she replied, "Barty threw a piece of paper at Lily, but it hit Miss Slate instead."

Priscilla giggled as Zorro turned towards her, brows raised, looking interested in the story.

"Then?"

"Then Miss Slate opened the chit. It read…" Priscilla lowered her voice, her face all serious, and Zorro played along, crouching down to her height and putting a finger to his lips, "It said 'I have chocolates.'"

"Whoa!"

"I know right!" Priscilla exclaimed, "Barty _smuggled_ chocolates to class and he was going to share it only with Lily!"

"Smuggled is a strong word…"

"And you know? He had a whole box of them!"

"Lily is lucky."

_"Dad!" _Priscilla said, crossing her tiny arms across her chest, "Anyway, ultimately, we all got a chocolate from Barty! He isn't so bad after all."

"Wait, how did that happen now? Wasn't it just for Lily?"

"It was," she added wisely, "But ultimately he shared with everyone because Lily said so."

"Lily _is _lucky."

Priscilla giggled again at that before clinging to him again as he cooked. Zorro smiled to himself, feeling much more relaxed than he did earlier. The child managed to do some kind of magic on him every single time he felt stressed. If there was one thing he was eternally grateful for, it was Priscilla's presence in his life.

Of course, the events that led to this gift always made him sad…

Zorro remembered the day when he was made young Priscilla's godfather. He hadn't known what to do then, for his own life was a mess. And then, then her parents were executed for treason, the only two people who didn't treat him like scum were dead, leaving behind the most beautiful angel.

He took her in and gave her his last name and brought her up like his own. Now, he could say that she truly was his daughter and he did whatever he could to protect her.

There was another whom he had vowed to protect.

His eyes darkened as he recalled Zia, his delightful sister, the girl whom he loved a lot. Sure, he was jealous sometimes because she outshone him, but that didn't mean he didn't love her. He had wanted to protect her, always, and hence was devastated when he had felt the tragedy approaching her weeks before it actually happened. He loved her a lot and still thought about her often.

Ultimately, however, he loved himself more.

"Dad?"

Zorro turned to Priscilla even as he replayed the events that occurred so many years ago in his mind, the event that led to his victory and Zia's end, the event that ultimately ruined his life to the extent that even his parents did want him.

Had he not been thinking how he would have reacted had Priscilla done this and he'd been in his parents' place? Well, he didn't know. He never truly forgave himself for what he did even though he knew in his heart that he needed to do that in order to survive. It was amazing, he thought, how humans could manage to justify and criticise the same action at the same time.

"Dad, are you okay?"

"Yes," he replied, looking at his daughter fully in the face, and smiled, "Come on Priscilla. After dinner, I'll tell you a story."

"A story?" she exclaimed happily.

"Yes," he smiled sadly, "A story that I think you should know."

* * *

**District Nine**

* * *

**May Orzya, 34**

**District Nine Female**

_**Five months eighteen days before the Reapings**_

* * *

Cosmetics.

It was _always_ cosmetics.

May was fed up with cosmetics. There were better gifts in the world, gifts that were actually useful or made a person happy. In spite of the existence of such products, people adamantly chose to give her these ridiculous chemicals. Did they not get that she didn't need them?

May sighed as she set the box on the table. This was a gift from the Capitol after all; she just couldn't throw or give it away. She just didn't get what was going on in the minds of these people. Why did they believe that the most beautiful woman in the world would _need_ cosmetics to make her look good? She was flawless the way she was. These chemicals were for humans, humans who just looked so _normal_ that they were dependent on such outrageous measures. She was far above them.

However, that did not matter presently. She had to thank the stupid Capitolite for his 'generous present', and so she picked up her phone and dialled his number. May couldn't handle talking to foolish people for long, and she quickly ended the conversation, before sinking into her chair. She sighed, tucking her luscious blond hair behind her ear. She had worked out a little too much that day, and she was feeling exhausted.

"Harv!" she called out in her rich, melodious voice, "Dearie, is the tea ready?"

"Almost!" her younger sister, Harvey, called out, "Just setting the cups."

"Cool, darling," she replied, "Your sister loves you."

There, that would make Harv's day. Her little sister was devoted to May in ways that no human could be to another human. For her, May's word was the ultimate order; there was nothing above it. May truly loved Harv as well; she deserved it for being so selfless and such a devout, but more so for having an excellent understanding of who to follow and who to ignore.

"Tea is ready, May!"

"I'll be right over dearie," May smiled, flicking her long hair over her left shoulder. She just really enjoyed playing with her hair, because they were so smooth and beautiful and soft, the smoothness beaten only by her incomparable skin.

May took her seat at the dining table, right at the head of it, because that's what she was, the head of the family. Her husband was already seated by her side, and he smiled brightly on seeing her.

"You look tired, May," Grist noticed, "Is there anything you need, honey?"

"No honey," May said, taking his hand, "Except, mayabe, a little bit of honey in the tea?"

"I'll get it!" Grist exclaimed, letting go of her hand and rushing to carry out her request, even as Harv went red in the face.

"I'm sorry, I should have added it!"

"It's okay dearie," May replied sweetly, "I pardon you."

"I…" Harv lowered her eyes at that, to which May put her arm around her. It wasn't such a big sin after all. May was aware that Harv was so devoted to her that sometimes it even clouded her thinking, and she couldn't blame her baby sister for it. After all, she was superior to all other women, because men didn't even count. Grist was lovely, but not as lovely as she herself was. Still, she believed she had a good choice to be able to find one man who was close to being flawless, or as close as any ordinary human could be.

He was back soon, but not soon enough. Even as he was about to add the honey to her tea, she stopped him.

"No, darling," she said, "There's no point now. The tea has gone cold."

"I'll make it again!" Harv exclaimed, getting to her feet with such rapid movement that she ended up overturning her own cup.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"It's okay dearie," May said lovingly, "It happens sometimes. Honey, do you mind cleaning this?"

"Of course not, darling!" Grist responded, "It'll be spotless in no time."

"Thank you honey, you're a blessing."

With that, May gave him a quick hug, before turning to her younger sister, "Harv, dearie, I'll be resting in my room. Can you please bring my tea up there? Also, please don't forget to add honey to it."

"Of course May! I know you're tired, I'll be there in a minute!"

Her elder sister smiled brightly at her and patted her head. Harv was a good girl and deserved the best. May wondered whether she could arrange it so that Harv would get some modelling projects too. She was quite pretty, and once she would have the magic surgery that May had, she would be nearly as flawless as she was. Of course, Harv would never be able to pull off the human doll look the way May did, but she would still be gorgeous enough to be one of the best models in the world.

People often did not like it when she voiced her opinion on the matter, and May did not blame them. Humans were born imperfect, and it was a hard job to address this imperfection, nobody knew it better than she did. She also knew that many people were not as fortunate as her when it came to resources. She just found some people to be hypocrites when they said that 'every human is beautiful'. Because that was not the truth, May had experienced that first hand.

As she sank into her bed, away from her family, memories started flooding her mind. She recalled with vivid clarity the time when she was young and plain, a girl who would spend all her savings on buying cosmetics to make herself look beautiful. Well, that girl never succeeded. Nobody called her beautiful because she honestly wasn't. Nobody wanted to marry her and while they all said that it was because she was too young, she knew it was because she wasn't beautiful.

Well, she changed that.

After her victory in the Games, May Orzya went to the best surgeons, with a very specific requirement in her mind. She wanted to be beautiful, more beautiful than any human could even dream to be. She wanted her beauty to exceed worldly limits, and May knew what was so gorgeous that everyone loved it.

Dolls.

It was simple, really. She told them she wanted to look like a doll through and through, and the surgeons were astounded at had ever come to them with that particular request, and they were reluctant to fulfil her wishes.

They were reluctant until she threw a bundle of cash at them.

After that, it was easy. She truly was the most beautiful woman on earth. Films and modelling projects started coming to her as if she were a magnet, because maybe she was. A magnet for success. She got an amazing husband, became a role model for her little sister and was loved by her District. What more could she ask for?

Well, maybe that tea, but she figured she should be patient...

* * *

**Dr Zed Vaduz, 41**

**District Nine Male**

_**The Reapings**_

* * *

As the moment came closer, Dr Vaduz became more and more nervous.

That was nothing new, he was _always_ nervous, and even that would be an understatement, but such reasoning did not help him. He was standing in line that did not consist of anyone except him, and the two women. Dr Vaduz was trying his best to not feel jittery, or at least not look jittery, because feelings were something he could not really control.

He watched as Regina, this year's escort for District Nine, made her way up to the stage, her long pink curls falling to her diaphragm, a small yet enthusiastic smile on her pretty face. Zed was glad that, for the time being, everyone was focused on _her _and not _him_, although he had prepared himself mentally for what was to come.

"Good afternoon my dear friends," she said into the microphone, smiling at them all brightly, although Zed could see that it was fake. He could always tell when something was fake, today was no exception.

She read the Treaty of Treason, and Zed noticed how she did not bother inviting the mayor to do the same. The message was clear; the Districts were utterly powerless.

"On the occasion of the commencement of the third Quarter Quell, I would like to thank the people of District Nine for their utmost sacrifices and their invaluable contribution towards building our nation. Your enthusiasm towards working for the country along with your zealous participation in the Games has always been admired and appreciated by the Capitol. Thank you."

Zed had no idea why she was reading out that script, such a demeaning yet cheesy performance, but he wanted her to continue talking so that he wouldn't. He just stood there, playing the next few scenes in his mind. What he was going to do was actually completely pointless and even illogical, but he'd do it anyway for the people in power did not truly care about logic, they just wanted a show.

He'd just have to give his best.

"And now, let's proceed with the Reapings. Today, we shall choose our male tribute first."

Before Regina could actually choose the slip, the single slip, Zed declared, "I volunteer!"

"Oh, a volunteer!" Regina exclaimed, her eyes pretty much asking him _why _he did that, but she feigned excitement nonetheless.

Of course, to the common person, Zed 'volunteering' when he was the only male tribute would not make sense. Indeed, it would seem absurd if nothing else. But Dr Vaduz knew exactly what he was doing, and he put on a smile, or at least what he hoped was a smile, and started towards the stage. It took all his willpower to not look at the screens, for he knew he'd see nobody else but himself, and that was the last thing he wanted. Zed didn't want to be seen, _ever, _and so calling the spotlight on himself in this fashion was hard for him, but there were some things that needed to be done.

"Hello Dr Vaduz," Regina greeted, shaking his hand firmly, and he reciprocated with an enthusiasm he did not truly feel.

"Hello Regina, you're looking lovely as always."

"Thank you Dr Vaduz. You look quite prepared for the Games yourself. Do you want to say something to our audience?"

"Indeed," he smiled.

Zed inhaled sharply, and shut his eyes for not more than a second, but he needed it. He was not someone to address the public willingly, and when he saw that every single pair of eyes was only on him, his resolve almost broke.

He just couldn't afford that right now.

"Good evening friends," he said, smiling lightly at the audience, "I'm proud to represent you in the Third Quarter Quell. It's been a while since Nine has won in the Games, and I'm going to make sure to change that. All I ask for is your support."

An applause broke out. It wasn't thundering or something that would come close to applause in a Career district, but it was something. District Nine never applauded anyone in the Reapings. The cheering was nowhere as fake as his little speech, but he smiled nonetheless.

* * *

"Zed!"

Dr Vaduz looked up to see his friends from medicine school. A group of friends had already met him and wished him luck, but he had been waiting for Brent and Jack. He didn't have any family left, and those two were the closest friends he had, even though he had learnt the hard way that friends in general were not trustworthy.

"Zed," Brent said, sitting down beside him, eyes downcast, not looking at him.

"You've got to win!" Jack exclaimed, taking his hands in his own, "It is unfortunate that this has happened, but all of us here knew it would. We need to make the best out of this."

"Of course," Zed smiled. Ever since he had heard of the Quell announcement, Dr Vaduz had spent every waking minute of his life to figure out a plan. Of course, it was easier said than done, and he wasn't sure whether he ultimately had anything concrete or not, but he was going to heed Jack. He _had_ to win. There was no other option.

"I'm sure you're prepared," Brent muttered, finally looking into his eyes.

"I don't know to be completely honest."

"Well, yes," Brent sighed, "I don't know what to say. I-I will be rooting for you, Zed. If there's any way I can help, I'll make sure to do it."

"Thank you, Brent."

"Same here, doctor," Jack replied, "We're with you and we'll be rooting for you."

"That's all I need."

"Well then, Zed," Brent said as he stood up, even as a Peacekeeper came in to take the visitors out, "We hope to see you soon."

"I'll do my best, Brent. I'll do my best."

* * *

**Hello friends, it's been a while. Hope you all are keeping well. Things have been busy recently, and I'm sorry this took so long to get out. This chapter has been written over such a long period of time that I'm sure it's choppy, and I apologise for that. I had literally forgotten how to write, and so even when I knew exactly what I wanted to write, it was getting hard, so I hope this chapter isn't as bad as I think it is.**

**Anyway, do let me know what you think of it.**

**Have a great day!**


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